Showers
by crescent-moon-demon
Summary: A little misunderstanding can ruin a relationship before it even happens. Will Hound or Mirage let it? Drabble, Mech/Mech


**C.M.D: Right, so... digging through my files, trying to scrounge up fics to pat on to this bone-dry update period this month, and I come across this old drabble. Not really my best work, but it's kinda fun, cute... a little sexy. So what the slag, I'll share it with you all~ ^ ^**

* * *

Hound liked to think that he was a friendly, well-rounded kind of mech, not easily prone to tempers or other negative mood swings. The 'bot that everybody wanted as their best friend.

"I mean... why _him_?"

Today was just not one of those days.

Trailbreaker gave Hound a sympathetic look, drinking from his energon cube. The green jeep sat across from him, grumbling under his intakes, while he sullenly glared down at his own ration before him. "Well, maybe it was a... umm, spur of the moment thing?," the camper truck tried to comfort.

The tracker sent him an unconvinced look. "Spur of the moment?," Hound huffed lowly. "Mirage doesn't _do_ spur of the moment slag -not like that at least. He is always so precise and well-thought out in his movements... he doesn't just suddenly decide he wants to tackle-roll across the floor with _Cliffjumper_, who might I add, was calling him a traitor and would have gladly shot him in the back earlier today and is filthy to boot. Mirage _hates _dirt!"

Against that counter-argument, the defensive strategist couldn't find anything else to say. "Well, maybe...," Trailbreaker trailed off lamely, unable to find even the weakest excuse to console his troubled friend.

"I can't believe he'd choose Cliffjumper though, out of everyone here."

"Now wait just one moment there," the grey mech cut in before Hound could go off on a downward spiral. "Who said anything about Mirage choosing anyone? For all we know, this whole incident could have just been a very innocent bout of friendly play between two comrades. I mean, cut the mech some slack... he did just get back from nearly being killed and controlled by those glitches the Insecticons."

The jeep had the decency to bow his helm in shame. "I know, I just..." Hound sighed, setting his chin on the table top.

It was a peculiar action to be certain, and Trailbreaker couldn't help but raise an optic ridge curiously. "Why all the fuss for, Hound?," he asked. "I mean, it's not quite like you."

The other Autobot sighed again, shuttering his optics at his untouched cube. "Promise you won't tell anyone?," he said softly, glancing up at his friend. Slowly, Trailbreaker nodded his helm.

"Well, I...," Hound pushed himself up, leaning in closer to the camper truck, speaking into his audio, "I r-really like him."

"Cliffjumper?," the strategist gaped in disbelief, pulling back from the green mech.

"Wha-? No!," Hound protested. "Mirage, you bolt-head!"

Trailbreaker leaned farther away. Glancing around them quickly, the grey 'bot shuffled back closer to his companion, speaking lowly so no one in the rec room would hear them. "So...uh, why him? I mean, it's a little strange, don't you think? Just saying," he tacked on quickly, seeing the glare shot his way.

The tracker folded at the innocent inquiry, setting his chin in an open servo. "I don't really know... I mean, he's just, so perfect. The way he speaks is lovely, and he moves so gracefully, like water vapors through the air. I'd love to touch that plating of his, I know he keeps it very clean and it's really beautiful. I don't think I've seen a more prettier sight than how the sunlight just gleams off of his white plating, highlighting the blues..."

Hound sighed dreamily, lost in his thoughts, no doubt concerning the fallen Noble. Just when Trailbreaker was starting to get uncomfortable, the green mech came back to reality. "But, it's more than that you know," he added. "I've just... He looks so lonely, you know? I would like to make him smile, and have it honestly show in those gorgeous gold optics of his."

"Well," Trailbreaker exhaled slowly, "I can definitely say that you are one hundred percent, without a doubt, out of your helm. But! I won't say nothing concerning your feelings about Mirage. 'Cause even if I think it's crazy, you obviously care for him and that's more than enough I suppose."

The jeep tried not to smile giddily at his friend's comment, but couldn't stop the subtle lifting of his lip components. Of course, his good mood was quick to sour again when he remembered just exactly what had gotten them on this subject in the first place. "Cliffjumper...," he grumbled darkly, before smacking his helm onto the table top.

Trailbreaker had a hard time not laughing at that. "Now, now," he replied, patting Hound's lowered helm. "If you're really worried, why don't you go talk to the mech? Ask him out for a date or something?"

A small groan came from the tracker.

The grey mech continued to chuckle. "Well, you'll never know until you try."

* * *

"Alright, you're free to go now Mirage."

The spy rose to his pedes, looking over his shoulder plating at the medic heading for his cupboards. "Thank you," he replied politely, glancing down at his new repairs. Ratchet shrugged off his words, focused only on his tools.

"Just don't go rolling around with Cliffjumper again anytime soon," the CMO cautioned. "Otherwise I won't be fixing anything you break in the process."

The fallen Noble refrained from scoffing at the warning. It wasn't as if he had chosen to be tackled to the floor by an oddly sorry and enthusiastic minibot. He was only glad that Cliffjumper hadn't caused him further injury, only chaffing his wounds during his "play". Now he had to go shower and wax as well, considering he had nasty scuffs and patches of dirt all along his frame.

Unfortunately, his own personal shower was out at the moment, no thanks to a couple of immature mechs, so he had no choice but to use the washracks. Mirage tried not to scowl. He really didn't want to have to use the same facilities as the others, but he did need to get clean. Oh well... necessity over practicality, he supposed.

Thankfully, it was empty when he entered. Double-checking that nothing had been tampered with and that no one was around, the Ligier picked the furthest stall at the end, the one that he'd heard had a good nozzle and a decent flow. Mirage gathered his cleaning supplies from subspace (he was not going to use the same soap as everyone else as well), before turning on the water. Steam was already beginning to cloud everything within the washracks long before the white mech had even stepped under the spray. When he finally did, Mirage was unable to contain the sigh of bliss that left his vocalizer as the warm water poured down his battered frame, carrying away all the dirt and stiffness in the cables.

Stiffness that, unfortunately, was the result of stress.

"Oh, Hound...," the ex-Noble muttered under his intakes, wiping his servos down his face in weary exasperation. Why, oh, why did the tracker have to come into medbay at that very moment? It was like the entire universe was out to get him, having his crush walk into the room just when he was tangled up on the floor with Cliffjumper. No doubt, Hound had misinterpreted the entire thing, if his surprise and hasty departure were anything to go by.

But if he would just talk to the jeep, confess his feelings, then- No, Mirage thought, shaking his helm. It was unlikely that the other mech even felt a kinship towards the ligier and Mirage could not bear to strain their already precarious camaraderie by adding his own emotions to the mix. After all, why would anyone as sensible and kind as Hound ever want anything to do with a snobby, callous rich brat?

Depression overcame the spy and his shoulder plating slumped under the water's diligent downpour. He really should stop thinking about these things if they always-

"U-umm... M-mirage?"

Mirage bit back the squeak that rose at the unexpected vocalizer; whirling around in the stall and coming face-to-face with the mech he had just been thinking about. "H-hound," he stammered in shock. As per usual, his core temperature was beginning to rise, spark pulsing erratically, as if determined to burst out of his chestplates and nestle alongside the tracker's. It didn't help the fact that the ex-Noble was currently bathing (which he always considered a private affair) and had that privacy breached by the only mech he'd fallen for so hard these past several million years; all of which was making his cheekplates start to burn as energon boiled dangerously under the plating.

Hound looked possibly as stunned as the ligier did, though it took him nearly a full klik to tear his wide optics away from the wet and dirty spy. "S-sorry to butt in, I-i-i just w-wasn't expecting to f-find you here," he apologized quickly, one servo rising up to cup the back of his helm. "B-but, umm, I-i was wondering, i-if..."

Hound didn't really know what he was saying anymore. He was certain that he was rambling to a point, stumbling over his words, as he tried to fight against the urge to look up at Mirage. Oh, but it was such a temptation! Seeing that beautiful mech with water and mud trailing down his pristine plating, his cheekplates turning pink with his blush the longer the two of them faced off in this awkward situation. And those optics! They kept flickering down, either in embarrassment or shyness, but the action kept catching the tracker's glancing attentions, making his energon cables constrict tightly and his fingers twitch with the wish to cup those lovely cheekplates.

"H-hound...," the ex-Noble eventually huffed in mild annoyance, as it became prominently more aware that the jeep was only going to babble on ceaselessly. Mirage twisted a little, turning off the water, folding his arms across his chestplates as he faced the green mech again. "Was there something you wanted?"

That tone, that sexy cock of a white hip... Hound was sent into la-la-land with barely a shove. Systems purring at the gorgeous sight before him, the jeep's sense of judgement took an unexpected vacation, leaving him stranded when the words "I'd love to see you covered in mud," slipped from his lip components.

Mirage, understandably, was torn at how to respond to such a statement. "W-what?," he choked, blush darkening.

"Uh...," the tracker gaped, suddenly catching on to what he had just said. His own cheekplates started to turn pink, and Hound quickly back-pedaled, stammering apologies and excuses the entire way. "Listen, I-i've got, umm, thing... important... before wednesday! So, umm, I-i-i'l just g-ack!"

The big mech slipped on a patch of water and ended up slipping in his rush, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud. On the way down, he kicked up specks of mud from the bottom of his pedes, covering Mirage in the dirty droplets. The ligier made an aghast cry at the sudden dirt, looking down at his sullied frame with horror. "Hound!," he cried. "You got me dirty again, and now...umm, w-why are you looking at me like that?"

Mirage covered his frame as best as he could, trying to shield himself from Hound's suddenly intense gaze. But it did nothing, and the spy felt his frame grow hotter as lust spiked through him. Oh, if those optics could spread him open so much, imagine what those servos would do once they were on his plating. "H-hound... p-please..."

Deep blue optics lifted, catching his own gaze. "...do," the tracker started, "... Do you like Cliffjumper?"

"Wh-what?," the ligier asked, caught off-guard by the question. "Y-you mean as friends, or comrades?"

Hound's expression was much too serious for it to be one of those things. Cluing in, Mirage waved his servos before him in protest. "O-oh, I... well I never! If you are implying what I believe you are, you are most assuredly wrong in your assumptions," the ex-Noble sniffed, gathering the shreds of his lost dignity. "I mean, he's much too loud and obnoxious for one; and he always insists on calling me a no-good, filthy traitor for another. And secondly, I-"

"I do."

Mirage slowly dropped his servo, which had risen in the air as he launched into an almost rant about Cliffjumper, looking at Hound in a daze. Getting up, the jeep stepped a little closer to the white mech. "I do," he repeated, in that same soft, confident tone that he'd said it the first time, "I like you Mirage, and I'd like to know more about you. Can I?"

Hound was directly in front of him now, his optics so open and kind. Oh, a 'bot could simply drown in those lovely orbs; just be overwhelmed by the amount of compassion and caring locked away with one gaze...

"I-it's 'M-may I'," the spy mumbled back just as quietly.

The jeep smiled brightly at him, optics flashing in his joy. "My apologies 'Raj," he chuckled gently.

Mirage had to refrain from rolling his optical sensors at the typical response. "Oh, would you just shut up and kiss me already," he ordered, growing impatient already. "And I believe someone owes me a scrub after getting me all dirty."

Hound leaned in closer until their chests were brushing against one another, his servo sliding down to cup the small of the ligier's back. "I'd like the chance to get you even more filthy," he husked, closing the last of the distance and kissing Mirage before he even had a chance to comment on the lewd statement. The ex-Noble moaned blissfully into the kiss, twining his fingers through the tracker's grill and tugging the both of them back into the stall.

* * *

**C.M.D: I did mention that this was really random and pointless, yes? Well, I hope it was fairly enjoyable for you dear readers, all the same~  
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


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